Holiday
by thesherlockedwriterof221b
Summary: Sherlock is forced to go on holiday with his parents and begins counting down until he can leave. That is, until he meets somebody who just might change his perspective on the whole unfortunate charade. AU-Teen!Lock. M for things that are likely to turn up at some point or another.
1. That's When It Got Interesting

**A/N: **Hello everyone c: I wasn't intending to start _another _fanfic, but here we are. It started out as somewhat of a challenge from a friend to incorporate 20 words into a story, but then THIS happened. I got a bit attached to it, and decided to make it into more than just a one-shot, because I came up with ideas of how to extend this and make it more interesting and detailed. But I hope you enjoy this anyway c:

**Note: **This is highly unlikely to have anything het in it, so if you want some nice het fics, you should probably go back now, and no harm done. Definitely going to be some Sherlock/John going on. Also, I generally don't respond to reviews, but if you have a direct inquiry or _do _want a reply, just ask and I'd be happy to oblige c:

**Disclaimer: **I never have, nor will own the majority of characters in this, as they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC Sherlock. This is unlikely to change, so disclaimer goes for all upcoming chapters.

* * *

I had once been told, and often since, that I was one of the most annoying people ever met. I assumed this was because of brief encounters I had experienced with others, seeing as I preferred to be alone, and usually, this meant I was. People tended to leave me alone, with the exception of my brother and my absent, yet smothering mother. My father was the only person who _did _leave me alone in return for my doing likewise.

It was early summer, and I had been forced on a plane to some ridiculously warm country for a holiday – possibly Spain. Maybe Italy. I hadn't heard natives speaking their mother tongue yet, so I was unsure of which it was. I was sitting in my hotel room with the doors to the balcony open, allowing a gentle wind to rustle the curtains and in its wake, leave the room slightly less suffocating.

A knock on my door. 'Sherlock, honey, do you want to come down for lunch?'

I rolled my eyes and ignored the question put forth to me by my Mother.

'Sherlock, really. Do we need to go through this every year?' The door handle rattled. 'Do you feel sick? Are you okay?'

I knew she wouldn't leave without an answer. 'I'm _fine_. Leave me alone.'

'Honestly, you need to live your life with some _passion_, Sherlock. Immerse yourself in the culture!' she said happily.

'I'm not hungry.'

I heard her sigh heavily. 'Sherlock, I didn't want to do this, but if you don't come out, I will stop your allowance, find your stash and destroy it.'

'Fine.' I stood and walked swiftly to unlock the door. 'Happy?' I asked, stepping into the corridor.

'Mildly.' My Mother shook her head and turned on her heel to stalk down the hall and into the elevator. She held the door for me as I entered and stood silently in the corner. 'Sherlock, really. Be a bit more cheerful.'

I narrowed my eyes at her. 'If you don't like my behaviour, send me back to London. I would _much _rather be there "immersed in the culture".'

She set her jaw and it clicked audibly. I had hit a nerve. 'Sherlock. Dear. We are on holiday. Would you please at least _pretend_ to enjoy yourself.' The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 'Your father and brother have both taken time off work to be here, so please make a _bit _of an effort.'

'Mm, because _that's _always something to celebrate.' I muttered.

* * *

Lunch was insufferable. The minutes felt like hours as time ticked slowly away. My Mother insisted on ordering me a meal, though she knew I would barely touch my plate. I told her not to bother, but she was very determined and thought that the "exotic" cuisine might inspire me to eat.

'You do realise that just because a meal is prepared in a different country does _not _make it exotic, yes?' I asked, staring at the garden salad in front of me.

'Sherlock, shut up.' Mycroft said, smiling benignly at me across the table.

I paused and tilted my head. 'Gained a few pounds, Mycroft?'

'_Losing _them, actually.' His smiled faded and he returned his attention to whatever it was he had ordered.

'May I be excused?' I asked, rising from the table.

'You haven't touched your food, Sherlock!' my Mother protested.

'Emmaline, let him go.' My father said, waving his hand as permission.

I nodded and turned to leave.

'Ah, Sherlock,' she spoke up again. 'Don't go up to your room. Go for a walk by the pool, or on the beach. Get some air.' A small smile appeared on her lips. 'Either that, or sit back down.'

I rolled my eyes. 'I'll go to the beach.'

* * *

The beach was crowded, but less so than usual. Most people were at lunch. I found myself a shaded spot under a tree and flicked off my shoes, grinding my toes into the cold sand. I watched the waves roll in and crash against the shore, foaming and leaving behind small mementos like shells and sea-smoothed pieces of glass, with the odd bit of seaweed.

I tilted my head back, leaning against the tree. The sunlight creeping through the gaps of the leaves was a harsh white against my eyes. All this – my mother called it "magic". Everything about this place was "magic" or "magical" with the occasional "beautiful" and spot of "paradise". Personally, I still preferred London.

I smiled and sighed. London. I missed it. How many weeks until I was back? I counted in my head. Five weeks, three days and seven hours. I sighed again in frustration. That was much too long. My thoughts were interrupted by the clearing of a throat. I straightened my head and opened my eyes.

'Are you okay?' A boy, about my age, with sandy blonde hair that was slightly overgrown and bright blue eyes, was staring at me. 'Are you okay?' he repeated.

'Fine. What do you want?' I asked brusquely.

'Uh...' he looked slightly taken aback and flicked his hair from his eyes. Mm. Overgrown. Not used to the length. 'I thought you might need help...' he rubbed his neck awkwardly. 'You don't look like you spend much time in the sun – no offence – so I thought you might have gotten heatstroke or something.'

I arched my eyebrow. 'Ah. Well. I'm fine.'

He continued staring at me, and was silent.

'Anything else?' I asked pointedly.

'I guess not.' After a moment's hesitation, he stuck out his hand. 'John Watson.'

'Sherlock Holmes.' I didn't shake his hand.

He let it drop awkwardly and stared at it for a second like he was surprised to see it there. 'So are you staying here?' He gestured towards the hotel behind us.

I nodded. 'I am.'

He smiled happily. 'Me too. Which floor?'

'Seventh.'

'Same!' his smile widened. 'What room?'

'19.'

'I'm in room 6.' He offered. 'Are you there with your family?'

'I am. My brother and my parents have separate rooms though.'

'You have an entire suite to yourself?'

'Mm. Apparently I'm not a good person to share with.' I turned my head back towards the waves crashing on the beach.

'Really?' I heard his flop onto the sand beside me. 'Why is that?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Don't ask.'

I saw him nod from the corner of my eye. 'How long are you here for?'

'Five weeks, three days, six and a half hours.' I recited immediately.

'Wow, that's precise.'

'Counting down.' I sighed angrily. 'Didn't want to come.'

'Didn't want to come? To Spain?' So I was in Spain. At least I knew that now. 'Where are you from?'  
'London.'

'Ah... I know the feeling. Me too.'

'Fascinating.'

He didn't get my sarcasm. 'It's a coincidence, right?' he yawned. 'I'm here for another five weeks myself.'

'I trust you'll enjoy yourself.' I replied, deadpan.

'Oh yeah, definitely.' He nodded enthusiastically.

I stood to leave. 'I'm going back to my room. Excuse me.'

'Wait up!' I heard John get clumsily up. 'I needa go back too.' He caught up with me and jogged slightly to keep up with my pace. 'We can catch the elevator together.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Sure.'

* * *

We walked in through the lobby and went directly to the elevator. John was obviously a rather talkative person, and it was vaguely annoying that he had decided to follow me. We rode the elevator to the seventh floor in an uncomfortable silence. As soon as the doors opened, I went to my suite and locked the door.

I flopped onto one of the beds and stared at the ceiling. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. No doubt, John.

'What do you want?' I called.

'Um...' I was right – John. 'I wanted to ask you something. Can I come in?'

I sighed and got up. As soon as the door was open, John burst in and sat in the chair by the window. 'Can I help you?' I asked, shutting the door again.

'I ah...' John's cheeks went red. 'Back home in London... Do you have a girlfriend?'

I arched an eyebrow. 'Girlfriend? No.'

He nodded. 'Got your eye on one?'

I rolled my eyes. Apparently, I wasn't clear enough. 'I don't see how it would matter to you, but I don't have _girl_friends.'

Realisation swept over John's face. 'Ah...' A smile burst open. 'Me neither.'

'Are you...'

He nodded. 'Yeah.'

I sat on my bed. 'Huh.'

'I was wondering if you might want to... I dunno. Have dinner or something?'

'Maybe.' I collapsed backwards. 'You wouldn't want to date me, John.'

'Why not?' he sounded hurt.

'For starters, you met me an hour ago. Besides that, you know nothing about me.' Apparently I needed to point out the obvious.

'I suppose that's true..' he looked thoughtful. 'How about, we get to know each other first, then you think about it?' John smiled hopefully.

I sighed. 'Sure.'


	2. Picnic

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long.. Thought I had uploaded this chapter, but apparently not. Whoops. I'll start the next chapter tonight, so there should be chapter 3 in a few days! c:

* * *

Over the next few days, John came to my room and talked to me for a couple of hours. At first, I found it annoying, but after a while, I decided that maybe it wouldn't be so bad. John didn't mind my not talking much, and told me about himself. He had an older sister called Harriet (who they called 'Harry') who was only here because she'd had a fight with her girlfriend. John's parents were both respected figures of the medical profession – his father a surgeon who often worked long hours, and his mother who was a leading emergency doctor. They came to Spain every year as a family, and it was one of the only times when they spent some time together (with the exception of Harry who had decided not to come for the past two years).

John was an avid footballer, loved the sun – hence his golden skin – and hoped to follow his parents into medicine. He had already come out to his parents, and they were apparently perfectly happy with this. John had had a few girlfriends, but none of them lasted very long, and he had not had any boyfriends. On the second day of John talking constantly about himself, he asked me about _my_self.

I didn't tell him much. I found school ridiculously easy, did not do any sports and played the violin. My older brother, Mycroft, worked in the British Government, and my father was a business man who constantly travelled. My mother spent a lot of her time in foreign countries as well.

During this, John had been lying, sprawled across my floor, while I was on one of the beds, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly his face was looming above my own.

'Is that all?' he asked.

'Hmm?'

'Is that all you can tell me about yourself?' he rephrased.

I shook my head – or as well as you can with it on a pillow. 'No. It's all I _want _to tell you.'

John frowned. 'Well, if it matters...' he paused and flopped onto the floor again. 'I still want to date you. Despite what you've said.'

'What I said?'

'Mm. You told me pretty much nothing.'

I sighed. 'It doesn't matter.'

'Why not?' he asked from the floor.

'Because if you date me then you'll find out all these things anyway.'

'If you date me? What do you mean _if_?'

I laughed. 'It depends if you're asking or not.'

'I am.' He confirmed.

'Then I accept.'

John's head popped up beside me. 'You do?'

'I suppose.'

John broke out into a grin. 'Brilliant!' he got up and gave me a quick kiss, before darting out the door. 'See you later then!'

* * *

For the next few hours, I just stayed in my room, staring at the ceiling from different positions. The sun slowly sunk, leaving the room bathed in an orange glow. I hadn't been talked to be my mother for a while, so I was expecting her to knock on my door and force me down to dinner. I wasn't surprised when there was a light knock on the door.

'Go away, Mother.'

'Uh, Sherlock?' Not my mother. 'It's John...'

I sighed and got up from my place, lying with my head dangling off the edge of my bed. 'Coming.' I opened the door, and John came in with a tray in his hands.

'I brought dinner.' He set the tray down on the floor and sat cross-legged with it. 'Sit. I thought we could have a picnic.'

I did as he told me, and sat across from him. 'What's on the tray?' I asked suspiciously.

John grinned and took the lid off. 'I didn't know what to get you, so I just got a mix of food.' There were a couple of slices of pizza, a bowl of pasta, some bread, and an array of fruit.

I arched my eyebrow at his selection, but chose a shiny green apple. 'I don't really eat much.' I shrugged.

John grinned wider. 'Great. All the more for me.' He laughed and took a piece of pizza.

We ate in silence, and the room began getting darker. I flicked a small light on and watched as John flattened himself against the floor, completely stretched out. He sighed contently and looked towards me.

'That was nice.' He said quietly.

'Mm.' I agreed, lying down similarly to John.

'You okay?' he asked.

'Yeah, yeah. Fine.' I rolled onto my side and propped myself up with an elbow. 'You don't think this is going too fast do you?'

John frowned thoughtfully. 'A bit, I suppose. But we don't have to do anything if you don't want.'

'Okay.' I sighed.

John stood up. 'Right then. I'll just um... Leave...'

'No, no. You can stay...' I faltered.

He smiled. 'It's not you. I have to be back for some family thing. Do you want me to come back afterwards though? It might end up a bit late...'

I laughed. 'I'm an insomniac.'

John's smile widened into a grin. 'Then I'll definitely be back.'

'Good.' I replied, grinning.

John picked up the tray and went to the door. 'See you later then.'

'Wait...' I got up quickly and stood in front of him. I placed my hands on his arms gently and pulled him towards me. I stooped slightly and gave him a quick kiss. 'Thank you. For the picnic.'

'You're welcome.' He stepped out from my hands and opened the door. 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'


End file.
